Chronicles of Vengeance
by KiD Ent
Summary: One shot one kill, vague isn't it? I know, but it will all make sense soon enough...
1. Soap Mactavish

Chapter -one-

Operation Kingfish was a total failure. Its been two weeks since then. An anonymous tip lead Soap Mactavish to the heavily guarded Yi Ni Choko hotel in North korea. He camped on the roof of an restaurant across from it, and his supressed CheyTac M200 was trained on a certain room on the fifth floor. Soap knew he was there, he could very well feel it in his bones, and all he needed was a visual.

This seemed like a suicide mission but Soap didn't care, he was out for blood, he was out for revenge. Makarov was sitting down at a table, pleasently enjoying a meal that was brought up to his room a couple of minutes ago. Soap then adjusted his scope so he could clearly see the head of the black-haired meanace through the window.

He took a deep breath, "One shot, one kill" he said while adjusting his scope for the last time, "This is for Price."

After that he took another deep breath and pulled the trigger.

Time froze as the .408 round left the tip of the suppresser. The bullet traveled at high velocity and peeled through the plate glass window with ease. Afterwards a wave of relief and satisfaction engulfed Soap as he saw the shoulders of the white tuxedo stain crimson red. Soon enough Makarov's limp body fell, hit the floor, and pooled with blood. Seconds later the terrorist's room flooded with Spetsnaz soldiers and operatives.

It was time to move.

Soap reacted swiftly as two Mi-28s took to the sky with blinding spotlights. The spotlights were focused on the area of the roof top where he lay. It was already to late, for Soap was already climbing down a ladder on the side of the building. He found himself in a alley, and looking towards the end of the alley multiple Spetsnaz trucks went whizzing by.

Soap unholstered his M 1911 and radioed in for extraction.

(Static) "Baseplate come in, Baseplate," he whispered into his earpiece.

(Static) "This is Baseplate, what's your status over?," the earpiece responded.

"Mission success, Kingfish is out I repeat Vladimir Makarov is dead." Soap said peeking around the corner of the alley.

(Static) "Nice job, your exfil will be waiting about 20 clicks northwest of your current position, Baseplate over and out."


	2. For What It's Worth

Chapter -two-

 _Nine months later..._

Hundreds of thousands of people surrounded the Kremlin in celebration, for on this day they commemorated the death of Vladimir Makarov. A mighty bronze statue, made in his honor was being unveiled and though happiness prevailed, mass anger also found itself on the momentous occasion. The relationship between Russia and America Hasn't been child's play since the death of Makarov and needless to say shit was going to hit the fan very soon. Soap is stationed in Syria at camp Hardpoint along with the rest of TF 141, and he was sitting down in some barracks reading letters sent to him by Price from the Gulag.

"Dear Soap," he read, "I'm really getting tired of this shit hole of a prison. Russia is pissed and America I assume is on edge. What you did was brave son, and don't worry about me I've been through worse. Try not to get yourself killed, I plan on seeing you again when I'm able to get out of this hell. Stay safe."

"Prisoner 627," He concluded.

Ghost and Sandman were both sitting down at a table playing cards while Cpl. Burat, a new inductee of TF 141, was cleaning an M4A1 and Pvt. Watson, also a newbie, was fiddling with an radio. General Shepherd had been court martialed less than 2 months ago after being accused of wiring the Russians secrets about America's nuclear arsenal. In consequence the Task Force was under new management and his name was Master Sgt. Fergus O'chelly. He was a stoic, battle strong, 52 year old Irishman. O'chelly served during the cold war and did several engagments in Desert Storm; he hardly ever took "no" for an answer, but he was modest, and a man of his word. He appeared out of his tent and slapped a folder on the table Ghost and Sandman were playing cards on.

"Alrighty fellers, we have business to attend." O'chelly began.

"What's this?" Sandman responded.

Everyone else had begun to gather around the table at this point.

"It's yur new assignment." he replied.

"What's it about?" Soap said opening the folder.

Inside was the picture of an Arabian man with glasses.

"His name is Abdul Shransi, he's a small town nuclear arms dealer, and he may know what those Russian's are planning." O'chelly replied.

"How do we even know that the Russians are planning an attack?" asked Pvt. Watson.

"What? Did you think they were gonna forget about Makarov? No, they are going to do something big, whether its an full scale invasion or an all out nuclear attack, the Russians are going get some form of revenge." Cpl. Burat responded.

"So what's the mission?" Ghost asked.

"You find him, extract any Intel he has, and bring him back for interrogation." O'chelly replied.

"Seems pretty simple." Soap added.

"Oh yeah? Well he associates with OpFor so watch your arses out there," O'chelly began, "You leave at dawn, and I need him alive." He concluded apprehensively looking at Soap.

Afterwards the squad went back to their doings.

In the Gulag Price sat in his cell scratching a tally mark on the wall. The place was miserable with rats scurrying about and the cries of despaired prisoners. This didn't disturb Price, though he was worried. He was worried about the only thing he refused to tell Soap in the letters he send.

"I don't know what you have planned Soap," he said picking up an execution notice. "But, it better hurry."


	3. Operation Storm Stock

Chapter -three-

It was the crack of dawn, Watson and Burat pulled up to a weapons bazaar in a white sedan; the suspected location of Abdul Shransi. Soap was a short distance away providing overwatch on a small building while Sandman and Ghost camped behind the bazaar, waiting for the signal.

"Do you have a visual," Sandman radioed Soap.

"Yes," Soap responded, while looking through binoculars, "He's behind the table of AK 47s."

Sandman looked at Ghost and gave a nod.

"Can you confirm?" He radioed back to Soap.

"Yeah, it's him," Soap replied now loading his sniper rifle, "You are a go in 3... 2... 1."

In a flash Ghost and Sandman stormed the market, instantly taking Shransi down.

A couple of OpFor soldiers noticed this, but they were taken out by Soap before they could use their weapons. Afterwards they extracted Shransi to the sedan and took off under heavy fire. The team then picked up Soap, consequently, OpFor trucks spotted them in the process and pursuit gave way.

"Faster, faster!" Soap demanded.

"This is as fast as she can go." Burat responded.

"We're gonna need air assistance." said Watson.

"I already took care of that." Ghost replied.

Just then a AH-64 Apache appeared overhead and took out one of the trucks with a rocket. The other one returned fire with an RPG, but was unsuccessful. The attack helicopter effortlessly took this truck out with the cannon, so the team was no longer being chased.

"Appreciate it, Eagle two-one." Ghost spoke into his head set.

"No problem, but that's all I can do for now, I'm off to reload and refuel over and out." the pilot responded.

Soon after, the team arrived back at Hardpoint. They exited the battered vehicle and placed the terrorist on his knees before O'chelly.

"Well men," O'chelly began, "I'm impressed. Did you get any Intel?"

"None that could be recovered, at the least." Sandman responded.

"Ah well, Ghost you know what to do with him." O'chelly said walking back to his tent.

Ghost took Shransi away and Soap went with him.

"Well, that was easy." said Watson.

"I wouldn't keep thinking like that if I were you rookie," replied Sandman, "It's only gonna get shittier from here on."

"What do we do now then?" Burat questioned.

"I don't know," Sandman responded, picking up an M 16 now walking away, "I have to help train these new recruits, now either be productive or stay out of the way, your pick."


End file.
